


three feet deep

by torrentialTriages



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, the timeline of all of this doesnt make sense at all but humor me, what's better than this just husbands being angsty and divorcing, what's better than this just using your son as the weapon u fight ur personal battles with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: As much as Samot tries, the argument follows them into the woods - still the same question, still no good answers.
Relationships: Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)
Kudos: 11





	three feet deep

**Author's Note:**

> hey whats good this has been sitting in my notes for literal months and i need to free up some space so uhhhhhhhh please enjoy more indirect maelgwyn content from the maelgwyn luvr
> 
> title comes from steal my sunshine by len. lmao

"It was nice of Father to give us this house," Samot murmurs as they round the forest, taking in the still manor before them.

Samothes just grunts absently. Maelgwyn wriggles in Samot's arms, craning his little neck to see out the carriage window. He's about the size and force of a three year old, full of questions and willpower and bubbly radiant laughter that make them both feel like there'll be a happy end, despite Samol's announcement. That the metaphysics of the universe will allow revisions so that their world and father's life will be extended just enough - enough for what, no one knows. But they hope nevertheless. They hope against hope, and that's why their son is here with them as they get out and survey the house.

Samot puts Maelgwyn down and he beelines to the porch, scampering on all fours. There's echoes of wolf in him, of word eater, of miracles made flesh. "What are you thinking?" he asks softly, a tentative hand on Samothes' arm.

Samothes frowns up at the second story before responding, slow, battling his thoughts as he doles them out. "There's nothing that will change your mind, is there?"

Samot freezes. Maelgwyn clambers up a wicker chair to peer through a window. "... No," he confirms softly. "I'm still going to try."

Samothes grunts, attempting to pull away, but Samot isn't letting his husband go without having the last word.

"I _have_ to try. You know I have to - at the very least, I owe it to Father to at least _know_ if there's an answer or not."

Samothes shakes himself free and brushes past Samot, broad back closed off. He doesn't say anything - his tight shoulders say it for him. Arguments rehashed, the same ideas butting heads as Maelgwyn grows and learns more about the world he exists to save, the divide yawning between them and showing no sign of reconciliation. No matter how many reconfigurations Samot looks into, the same painful fissure cracks open at different points in time. None of them end any more happily than the timeline they occupy now. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

"Papa!" yells Maelgwyn, scampering off the porch. "No one's in the house!"

"It's our house now!" Samot responds as he approaches, scooping Maelgwyn up and showering the little boy in kisses, which Maelgwyn protests with infectious giggles. Samothes moves past them, hesitating for only a second with his hand on the doorknob before opening the door to their new home.

Samot carries their son over the threshold, their hope for a happy end, and immediately begins to point out all the features to his boy. Forget what Samothes wanted to do. He'd find a way. Their son is brilliant, dazzling even at this age, and in a few years with the right care he would be a fine young man. He can see it now - he is Samot, His Most Honorable Contradiction, words and miracles made flesh, he is the physical incarnation of pulling probability from impossibility. The future is bright, full of possibility, and the future is sitting right in his arms.

Samothes will see.


End file.
